The Lost Diary of Rose Dewitt Bukater
by EverAfter89
Summary: Written by Rose Dewitt Bukater (with a little help from me). This is pretty much what the title says. It's the diary of Rose, beginning with her voyage on Titanic. R&R cuz I really don't know if it's any good so please tell me what u think.
1. April 9, 1912

April 9, 1912

Southampton

Dear Diary,

I found this leather notebook in a pile of things that belonged to my father before he died. He had made a few notes in the first couple of pages concerning business, but I tore them out. I just feel so trapped! And the moment I saw this journal and touched its rich white pages, I knew it was the perfect companion for me, a depressed and lonely 17 year old. Mother would hate the idea of me keeping a diary, merely because it means there are bits of my private life she has not yet pried into. That just is all the more reason for me to keep it. Nonetheless, I think I need to find a hiding place for this memoir. No place too obvious that Mother or Cal would accidentally happen upon it (I'll get to them later). I suppose an exceptional idea would be to put another book cover on it. Hamlet. I will use the cover of Hamlet. Mother has no wish to read it, for she is not the intellectual type, and nor is Cal.

I suppose I should tell you about him. Cal Hockley is my fiancé. He's 22, rather handsome I suppose, and can be friendly at times. But he's also controlling. I can sense it. Like he feels the need to master me, though he hasn't actually mentioned it. The other day I talked back to him (not in a terribly rude way—just contradicting an opinion of his) and he approached me and put a firm grip upon my shoulders and said, "I assure you, darling, I am right." It's just little things like that that really bother me. I do not love him. I can tolerate him, but that is all. I don't actually want to marry him, but I have to. No one forced me into the engagement. But now it's only a few weeks until the wedding, and I know it's too late to turn back. I can't get out of it, and I suppose I just have to live with that. Mother is a lot like Cal. Controlling. She often tells me, "Your tongue is too sharp, your mind is too open, your opinions too strong. You are lucky you are pretty, otherwise you would never be able to find a suitable husband."

Ah, but what is a suitable husband. Cal? No, I think not. Yes he is rich (very rich). But that's about it. Oh, yes, I forgot. He's clean. Very clean. But that's the only good thing about him I can think of. Alas, this subject is making me terribly depressed. I shall move on to other things.

I just finished touring Europe with Mother and Cal. It was sort of a pre-wedding thing. I bought lots of expensive outfits, which I honestly don't care about, and now we are preparing for our journey back to America. Philadelphia, to be more specific. I don't want to go back. Going back means I'm one step closer to marrying Cal. Oh, God, what am I going to do. There are times I wish I could just end my life! There is but one exciting thing to happen. We will be traveling on the new ocean liner, the RMS Titanic. I'm actually quite excited about it. It's her maiden voyage, and she is supposedly the biggest steamer ever built! Cal pulled a lot of strings to get us on that boat, so I think I will feign disinterest and displeasure. All the better to torment my Mother with! HA! I think I will enjoy this. Yes it's terrible, but making Mother miserable is the one pleasure I have in life, and I scarcely miss an opportunity to lord something over her or make her feel angry or inferior. It's all I can do to keep from dying of misery and boredom.

I must stop writing for now. There is still so much to do. We are staying at a hotel right now. (I have my own room, separate from Cal, thank God. He keeps trying to bed me! And I am trying to avoid that predicament as long as possible.) But we leave tomorrow! I'm going to read by the window for a bit and savor every last minute in Europe before I continue supervising my maid, (and dear friend) Trudy Bolt, on packing. Goodbye!

Your friend (is that the right word?),

Rose


	2. April 10, 1912

April 10, 1912

RMS Titanic

Dear Diary,

In all the hubbub yesterday I completely forgot to mention who I am. My name is Rose Dewitt Bukater. I'm 17 and the daughter of Ruth and George. My father died last year. I don't really miss him. He was mean to both me and my mother. Usually I wouldn't mind someone treating her like dirt, but it's because of him that she is the way she is. But I'm not one to dwell in the past.

Today was the most hectic day from start to finish. Trudy woke me early, around 6:30. I usually rise between 7:00 and 7:30, which is still and hour or two before everyone else. After washing my face, I dressed in a long and slimming black dress, low cut, something I figured would annoy my mother considerably. Then I left the hotel room and walked down to the dining room for some breakfast. Mother made a comment about me being late, saying our meal was supposed to begin ad 7:00 and instead they had to wait for me. Well, for God's sake, it was only 3 minutes past! Time continued to pass, and everything was loaded onto Cal's motorcars (I actually prefer a horse-drawn carriage) when Cal suddenly announced that I must change at once. "You can not wear that dress. I will not allow it!" he said sternly.

"And why not?" I said annoyed, thinking it was because it was so revealing and he didn't want other men looking at me that way.

"It's black, and it's sailing day. That's bad luck it is," he laughed and Mother did as well. I rolled my eyes and stomped up the stairs and changed into a white and black striped dress suit (that no one could find the least bit inappropriate) but took my merry time doing it. When I finally emerged, also mother placed an enormous purple hat upon my head. I say, if there's anything wrong with that ship, it won't matter. I can just use this stupid and asinine hat as a lifeboat! It could probably hold Mother, Cal, myself, all of our things, and still have room for more! Ok, I exaggerate, but that hat was so big I could hardly hold my head up!

Since I took so much time dressing (I enjoyed that too much for sanity) we had to rush. We got to the docks only 5 minutes before they closed the gates! On some level I wish we had missed it, but actually it's a beautiful ship. I pretended to be unimpressed, which REALLY seemed to annoy Mother. I told Cal it didn't look any bigger than the Mauritania (which we traveled on not too long ago) but Cal said it was 100 feel longer. Then he turned to Mother and said, "Your daughter is far too difficult to impress, Ruth." Well I assure you, he is wrong. It doesn't take that much to impress me. Anyone can inherit wealth and a good name. All I need to impress me is someone who does something good with it. Or with their life.

As we boarded the enormous ship (so big that it could take up as much room as an entire town, no jest) Cal said the first thing that ever showed he knew what was going on in my head. He said, "I pulled every string I could to get us on the grandest ship in history, and here you are acting as if you are being led to your execution!" He is right. Still, I can not begin to express the beauty of Titanic. She is just enormous! And from the inside is just as good (if not better) than the hotel we were staying at.

After the departure (which was actually quite exhilarating) Mother suggested that we get settled in at our suite. It really is very nice, but nothing I haven't seen before. I have my own room, and Mother "ordered" me to take a nap. Since there is a door connected to the main hallway, I locked the other (that connects the suite itself) and escaped to the boat deck. I honestly love the sea. It makes me feel so free when I stare at it. Perhaps that's silly. I don't know…

Tonight we had dinner in the first class dining saloon. I dressed in an outfit with a large flower at the waist. I felt father stupid in it, though numerous people complimented me. We dined with John Jacob Astor (the richest man on the ship) and his wife Madelyn. She's my age and in the family way. Entertaining and annoying at the same time. We also ate with Mr. and Mrs. Straus, a nice older couple. I've known them for a while, as my father was friends with their son. Mrs. Straus treats me like her granddaughter. There were others at our table, rich and narrow-minded. I wanted so badly to make a comment here and there but Mother warned me to watch my tongue.

Tonight we also stopped at Cherbourg, France to pick up a few hundred other passengers. A woman named Margaret Brown came aboard. Molly is her nickname. She is so well humored. She wasn't always rich. Her husband struck gold or something. Mother calls her "new money." Mother said it as if it was and insult, but I find her more interesting than anyone I've talked to. Ah, I fear I have written too much. It's late and I'm tired. I plan on rising very early and taking a stroll on the boat deck alone, and I want to be well rested. Until tomorrow, then.

Your friend,

Rose


	3. April 11, 1912

April 11, 1912

RMS Titanic

Dear Diary,

Well, today was…interesting for a lack of better terms. It all started early this morning. I rose very early, as I said I would. It must have been 5:30. No one else, not even Trudy or Madge (our other maid, a dull elderly woman), was awake. I dressed in a plain, yet very pretty white dress with short sleeves and a very low cut neckline. It had a white sash around the waist and I wore it with a matching sweater and with my hair (which I have failed to mention is red, thick, and curly) down loose upon my shoulders. I ran the service bell in my room and asked the steward to bring me some scones and coffee, which he did promptly. I ate the scones and took my coffee with me to the deck. I'll tell you, I had the loveliest time. No one else was about. They were all still asleep. I sat by the rail and stared at the sea lost in thought for the longest time. I thought about so many things I can't even begin to list them. I had my diary with me and considered writing it, but took out my Grandmother's old copy of _Utopia_ and read for a bit.

Well, actually, it was longer than a bit because when I looked up it was much brighter out and I rushed inside, alarmed. It was 8:15! I rushed into the dining saloon, knowing well that I was late for breakfast. I had at least been smart enough to button up my sweater, but Mother was dismayed (that's her favorite word—dismayed, next to disgusted, all which are used toward me) because I was not "properly attired" and was 15 minutes late. I suppose she would not have cared as much had we not been invited to dine with Captain E.J. Smith himself!

Mother just sat there and gave me that "cold as ice" stare. I hate it. It's like she is looking right through you and it gives me chills. It's not right for one to get chills from one's own mother. Anyway, she just looked at the captain and said, "I do apologize. Rose is not feeling well, which is why she was so late. I'm afraid she doesn't have her sea-legs yet."

I rolled my eyes and sat down, whispering angrily, "Oh please, Mother, it was 15 minutes. Your food hasn't even come yet."

She pinched my arm from under the table and told me to watch my mouth and mind my manners carefully or I would be "sorry." Well, I have to wonder what exactly "sorry" is supposed to mean. It's not like she's going to take out the dog whip and give me 40 lashes! She must have sensed that I was not afraid, for she then said, her voice low, "I will take away your favorite books, even that tattered _Utopia_ and your works of Shakespeare." Now I knew she meant business, even though I sensed that it was just a bluff. Cal paid good money for most of those books and wouldn't just get rid of them. Although _Utopia_ is one he didn't buy. As I mentioned, it was my Grandmother's. She read it as a girl and it was her favorite, and then passed it on to me when I was 10. Grandmother was the only member of my family who I could talk to, aside from Joseph. I was the favorite of all of Grandmother's kin. She loved me and I loved her. She was my father's mother and treated me like her equal. Not some silly girl who knew nothing of the world. Why, it was she that convinced my parents to send me to St. Thomas Moore's School for Girls (which thank God was a boarding school). Mother and Father wanted to put me in a different one that focused more on etiquette than education. And even though Grandmother lived farther away from the school than my own family, she visited me almost every weekend while I was fortunate (more like unfortunate) to see my parents maybe every other month. She died when I was 13 and I have never stopped missing her.

Joseph was my older brother. I loved him very much as well. He was my parents' favorite child, you see, because he was a boy, and boys are more valued than girls. But Joseph would shield me from their scolding and could always make me laugh. He taught me how to read only days before my 4th birthday and I was the only one he allowed to call him Joe. But Joe had hemophilia. Only boys can have it and they inherit it from their mothers. (Something Father never forgave Mother for). It means his blood couldn't clot, and because of this, he would be in terrible pain every time he bruised or cut himself. There was no way to stop the bleeding, internal or external. So one day, he was riding his horse with me and mine bucked me off. I was fine, of course (I was but 10 at the time, Joe was 15) but I suppose Joe's mare was spooked. He got bucked off as well. Because of his hemophilia, there was no way to stop the bleeding and his superficial wounds would not heal. He died in agony 2 days later. Though it was not my fault, my parents never forgave me. While it was unspoken, I knew they both wished me dead instead of Joe. Grandmother was the only one who told me that this was none of my doing, and I love her forever for that. Dear God, I miss them both so much. They are the only people who ever loved me.

But my mind is wandering and I should get back on topic. After breakfast, Mother ordered me to my cabin to change into a more "appropriate" (by which she means fancy) dress. I put on the white and green one, covered in lace. Ornate, but still pretty, and refused a hat. By lunch, mother seemed to have forgotten her threat, but I still knew I needed to be on guard.

Much to Mother's dismay (her favorite word again) we were seated with Molly Brown. Her mood was brightened when Titanic's owner, Bruce Ismay, (whom I find to be pompous) and the ship's designer, Mr. Andrews, were seated with us as well. But when time came to order our food, Cal took the liberty to order for me, without even consulting me! This is something I found quite offensive. He also put out my cigarette when Mother made a comment about it. (The only reason I smoke is to annoy her). My God, he is so controlling! He told the server that we both wanted rare lamb, with very little sauce, or something to that effect. Then he turned to me and said, "You like lamb, right sweet pea?" I don't mind lamb, but I DESEST it rare and wanted lots of sauce. He is so clueless! Molly Brown, who never fails to be entertaining, said, "You gonna cut her meat for her to there Cal?" in her thick Southern accent. Then she turned to Ismay and asked him if it was he who thought of the name "Titanic."

Acting egotistical, though prudently downplaying himself, he said, "Well, yes actually. I wanted to convey sheer size. And size means stability, luxury, and above all strength."

Well, I just couldn't resist! Smiling, I turned to him saying, "Do you know of Dr. Freud, Mr. Ismay?" He looked quizzical. "His ideas about the male preoccupation with size might be of particular interest to you." Molly laughed, Mr. Andrews choked on his breadstick, Cal looked nervous, and Mother appeared dismayed, as she would put it.

"What has gotten into you?" She whispered angrily.

Overly annoyed with the rich an arrogant people who surrounded me, I excused myself from the table just as I heard Mr. Ismay saying, "Freud, who is he; A passenger?" I walked to the boat deck and stood along the rail, which was a deck or two above the bow. I couldn't help but be proud of myself. That was my best comeback in weeks!

I stared into the sea, trying to forget about the misery that is my life, but I couldn't help but feel uneasy, as if someone was watching me. I looked around, and 100 feet away or so, I saw a young man looking intently at me. I averted my eyes, but could control myself and met his gaze. Our eyes met and locked. Until, that is, Cal broke it by grabbing my shoulder, turning me around, and scolding me. I didn't feel like getting into an argument, and I just brushed him aside and stormed away. I write this at the desk in my cabin now. I have written so much, my arm hurts. I'm glad I started keeping a diary. I haven't had any confidents since my Grandmother passed. But I'm going to take a bath before dinner. I need to unwind.

Your friend,

Rose


	4. April 12, 1912

April 11, 1912

Later that night

Dear Diary,

I feel so utterly stupid. But where to begin? I suppose I should start from when I was in my state-room. No, it started earlier. Before dinner, actually. I was dressing with mother, and she was helping me pick out a dress. This one was red and required my dreadful corset to be laced very tight. Then, Mother said, "You speak out of place one more time, and I will take _Utopia_ from you can toss it into the sea!" I just looked at her, shocked, and realized that it was no bluff. She would. So I agreed to keep my silence. Which I actually did do. I said hardly a word to anyone. Just the normal, "Nice to see you as well. And how is your wife?" That sort of thing; just small talk. And once the meal started, I said not one word.

I can see my whole life, flashing ahead of me as if I have already lived it. I see and endless parade of parties and cotillions, yachts, and polo matches. Always the same narrow people; the same mindless chatter. I feel as if I am standing at a great precipice with no one to pull me back. No one who cares, or even notices. It's a horrible, lonely, desperate feeling. I picked up one of those little crab forks and touched it to the skin on my arm with a building pressure until I drew blood.

Allowing those around me to think I was not feeling well, I excused myself from the table and left the dining saloon. It's hard to determine what was going through my head as I walked down the corridor. I was so angry. Moments ago, Mother and the Countess Rothes were talking and for some reason, their conversation annoyed the hell out of me.

They were talking about Molly Brown and Mother said she was dismayed (can you believe it; her favorite word again!) with her vulgar manners and then said she had fowl tastes in hats. I hear this all the time from Mother, but I couldn't take it any more! I was walking down the hallway to my cabin and was perfectly composed, but I was boiling inside. A steward walked by and said, "Good evening," and I smiled and nodded at him.

Then, I turned the corner, entered my state-room, and just exploded. I tore at my dress, my hair, till it came undone. I yanked at the peals around my neck and heard them scatter on to the floor. Outraged, I seized a small had mirror and flung it against the wall, cracking it! I had never thrown such a tantrum! Moments later, with Mother's and Cal's nagging voices ringing in my head, I rushed out the door, ran through the corridor and emerged onto the boat deck. It was very dark and cold and late, and almost no one was about. Crying for I don't know what reason, I ran and ran, bumping into a few people every now and then but not caring. I just kept running and running, and then there was no more ship! Next thing I knew, I was on the other side of the rail, hanging off the back of the stern, staring at the water!

Then I heard him. "Don't do it," he said.

I turned around sharply. "Don't come any closer! I mean it!" I said, "I'll let go!"

The young man took a drag from his hand rolled cigarette and removed it from his mouth. He indicated that he wanted to toss it overboard and he came closer as he did so. "No you won't," he said quite seriously.

I was quite annoyed! I said something like, "What do you mean 'no I won't'! Don't presume to tell me what I will or will not do! You don't know me!"

"Well, you would have done it already," he said in a matter-of-fact sort of way that caught me off guard.

"Go away!" he was so annoying! "You're distracting me!"

Then he started removing his boots and coat. "I can't. I'm involved now. You jump in there I'm gonna have to jump in there after ya."

"Don't be absurd!" I said, wanting him to go and stay at the same time. "You'll be killed!"

"I'm a good swimmer," he told me, and removed another boot.

"The fall alone would kill you!"

"It would hurt, I'm not saying it wouldn't" he said, sounding unafraid. "To tell you the truth I'm a lot more concerned about that water being so cold."

No I was starting to have second thoughts. "How cold?"

"Freezing." He said, "Maybe a couple of degrees over. Ever been to Wisconsin?"

"What?" I said, perplexed at his randomness.

Then he went on telling me about how he grew up there near some place called…what was it…Chippewa Falls or something. He said he went ice fishing with his father when he was a boy. He said, "Ice fishing is. you know where you—"

"I know what ice fishing is!"

"Sorry…you just seem like kina an…indoor girl…Anyway, I fell through some thin ice once, and I'm telling you, water that cold—like right down there—it hits you like a thousand knives stabbing you all over your body. You can't breathe, you can't think—at least not about anything but the pain." He removed another layer of clothes. "Which is why I'm not looking forward to jumping in there after you. But it's like I said. I don't have a choice." I was shivering and my heart was pounding. He came closer and I could actually feel his breath upon my neck. He extended his arm. "Come on, give me your hand. You don't want to do this."

Suddenly, I was much calmer. I turned toward him slowly and placed my hand in his. "Phew!" he said, smiling. "I'm Jack Dawson."

"Rose Dewitt Bukater."

"I'm gonna have to get you to write that one down for me," he said. I laughed and looked at him closely, realizing that he wasn't much older than I. And he was…I dare write it…quite handsome. He started to pull me over, but my shoe got caught in my gown and I slipped off the rail and almost into the water! Petrified, I let out a primal scream. He reached his other hand down and tried to pull me up, while my feet were just dangling helplessly, a hundred feet or more above the water! I screamed so loud! I was so afraid! But Jack said, "Listen to me, I've got you, I won't let go! Now pull yourself up! Come on!" And together, well pulled me up. As Jack dragged me over the rail, I fell upon him. Less than 5 seconds later, half a dozen officers and crewmen appeared and saw the 2 of us entangled, his shoes and coats spread out upon the ground, and part of my dress was ripped. I was shivering with fear and crying a little.

"You stand back!" one of the men said to Jack. "And don't move an inch!" He realized what the scene looked like and let out a sigh, stood up, and put his arms over his head. A few minutes later, Cal, his companions, and the master at arms were on deck with this Jack character, who appears to have been traveling in 3rd class. Cal put a blanket around my cold shoulders and tried to warm me. Then he turned to Jack as they were placing the handcuffs on him started harassing him about putting his hands on me. Moments earlier I had been planning on letting him get in trouble so I wouldn't have to admit that I was about to kill myself! But I knew I just couldn't do it.

"Stop it!" I finally cried. "Cal, it was an accident!" He looked at me completely bewildered and asked me to repeat myself. "It was!" I insisted. Rather stupid, really." I told him that I was leaning over and I slipped. That I was leaning far far over to see the…oh damn I forgot the word again! Pro…pellers! Yes, the propellers, and that I slipped and would have gone overboard had Jack—Mr. Dawson I suppose I should call him—not saved me. Mr. Dawson played along and the idiots bought it. Cal tried to seem like the good guy buy giving Mr. Dawson a 20 reward for saving me, but I said to him, "Is that the going rate for saving the woman you love?" So he invited Mr. Dawson to dinner.

When I got back to my room, I sat in front of my mirror, looking at myself, contemplating my stupidity. I opened my grandmother's music box with the dancing ballerina and brushed my hair. Then Cal opened the door and let himself in.

"I know you've been melancholy," he said, coming near me. "I don't pretend to know why." Then he produced a box. "I was going to save this until the engagement gala next week. But I thought tonight." He opened it and I came face to face with an enormous beautiful heart shaped jewel on a chain.

"Good gracious," I gasped. "Is it a—"

"Diamond," he said. "Yes." And he clasped the enormous, dense, heavy object around my neck. He told me the story of how it used to be King Louis XVI. It was obviously very expensive, and meant not just to impress me, but Cal's friends. "You know, there's nothing I couldn't give you," he said. "There's nothing I'd deny you. If you would not deny me. Open your heart to me Rose." Should I have felt touched at receiving such a lovely gift? No, I felt trapped. Now there was no way to get out of this wedding.

But still, I feel so utterly stupid. I didn't want to kill myself! It just all happened so fast! I feel like a fool. But do you know what I just realized? Mr. Dawson is that same boy who was staring at me yesterday. The way he looked at me…it made me feel beautiful. I can't help but want to see Mr. Dawson again. I think I will tomorrow. To thank him for saving me as well as for his good judgment in not telling anyone the truth. Now, I am thoroughly exhausted and shall go to bed. I may not even wake myself early tomorrow.

Your friend,

Rose

P.S. I just realized that Bruce's last name, Ismay, rhymes with dismay. I do believe mother would like him.


	5. April 13, 1912

April 13, 1912

Dear Diary,

Today I acted on impulse and went down to the 3rd class general room to see Mr. Dawson. Everyone down there was quite shocked to see me, a rich first class girl in a silk dress with diamonds and pearls decorating her body. I felt rather foolish in all my nice clothes. Mr. Dawson just casually got up from what he was doing (which was drawing funny faces on a piece of paper with a little girl whom he called Cora) and went with me on to the 1st class boat deck. When we were finally up there, strolling alone, we began a conversation about how nice the weather was and then about our families. I admit I opened up to him quite a bit. And he told me the sad story of how his parents died in a fire when he was 15. It's been five years and he has traveled the world! He worked on a squid boat, he lived in L.A., and Paris!

He even told me to call him Jack, instead of Mr. Dawson. I then thanked him for pulling me back as well as for his discretion. And when I said, "Look, I know what you must be thinking: Poor little rich girl…"

He said, "No, that's not what I was thinking at all. What I was think was, what could have happened to this girl to make her think she had no way out."

"Well…" I began, "It wasn't just one thing. It was everything. My whole world, and all the people in it. 500 invitations have gone out. All of Philadelphia society will be there. And all the while, I feel I'm standing in the middle of a crowded room, screaming and no one even looks up!"

"Do you love him?" he asked.

"What?" I said, not wanting to tell the truth.

"Do you love him?" he repeated.

"You shouldn't be asking me this…"

"Look, it's a simple question," he said, laughing. "Do you love the guy or not?"

"This is not a suitable conversation." I said. "You don't know me and I don't know you. You are rude, and uncouth, and presumptuous," I was furious that he had gotten the better of me. I shook his hand for a while. "I am leaving now, Jack…Mr. Dawson, it's been a pleasure." I was still shaking his hand.

He smiled. "I thought you were leaving," he said.

"I am!" And I turned and stormed away. Then I stopped and walked back. "Wait," I said, "I don't have to leave! This is my part of the ship! You leave!" I admit I was acting like quite a brat.

"Well, well, well," he laughed. "Now who's being rude?"

Angry, and looking to change the subject, I snatched the leather portfolio out of his hands that he had been carrying. "What is this?" I asked, looking through it. "What are you, an artist or something?" I asked, noticing some sketches. He nodded. I sat down on a deck chair, "These are rather good…very good." I said. I don't remember what all of them were like, but they were vivid, rather graphic, and above all, honest. One was of a woman breastfeeding her infant. Another of a little girl with her father. And there was one with hands around a tiny child's waist as she learned to walk. All of them were so realistic and beautiful. I'm no expert on art, though I do love it, (I am the owner of many paintings that I conned Cal into getting for me, although he calls them 'finger paintings') but I'm pretty sure they were drawn with charcoal. The I came across several featuring nude women. "And these were…drawn from life?" I said, trying very hard to be adult.

"That's the good thing about Paris," he said. "Lotsa women are willing to take their clothes off."

I grunt-like laugh escaped my lips. "Paris," I said without thinking, "You do get around, for a poor—"

"Go on, you can say it," he laughed, "A poor guy." He spoke with humor and didn't sound the least bit sorry for himself. There was one woman, another nude, whom he had used several times. I commented on it and told him I thought he must have had a love affair with her, though he claims he did not. And his eyes were honest.

I told Jack, "You have a gift. You do. You _see_ people."

"I see you."

"And…?" I said, expecting a flourish of compliments.

"You wouldn't have jumped." No compliments. And for some reason, that only made me like him more. Any man could have gone on about beauty or wit, but Jack did not, showing he had no agenda. Though I can tell he likes me. I sense it. And would you like to know a secret, dear diary? I like him as well.

Soon we got up and started strolling around again. Two or three people from first class stared at him as if he was beneath them. It annoyed me and so I gave those people the same exact look, and they went away. I talked to Jack for a very long time about…well…everything. I told him how I hated being a rich girl. I would rather be an artist like him, or a dancer, or a moving picture actress! I've never told this to anyone. Not my Grandmother, my brother, or even this diary. "When I was 11," I told him, "I tried to run away. My brother had just died and I was home from school for the summer. My mother was being impossible and I had just been to the ballet with her the night before. So I packed a bag and tried to run away, set on being a ballerina. I didn't even make it out the door. My nurse caught me and sent me back up to my room, and locked all the doors and windows."

"So you've hated this for 6 years and you still haven't done anything about it?" He said skeptically, as if I should have really run away.

"Actually," I said, "I've hated it since I was a baby, it think. I just couldn't vocalize it yet." We both laughed.

"So leave." He said.

"What?" I was shocked. "Just get up and leave."

"Yeah, sure, why not?" Jack said. "That's what I did. You don't have to marry that Penguin if you don't want to. No one can force you to do anything you don't want to do."

"Penguin?" I said, "Oh…Cal…You don't understand. I _have_ to marry him. I don't have a choice. No one can just pack up and leave their life."

"Yes they can." Jack said, "After my parents died, I left Wisconsin and moved to this pier in Santa Monica and did portraits there for 10 cents a piece." He told me all about the places he'd gone and how he got their. And each time it was a spontaneous action that led him to do so.

"Why can't I be like you, Jack?" I said, "Just…head out for the horizon whenever I feel like it. Say we'll go there sometime, to that pier. Even if we only ever just talk about it."

"No, we'll do it," he insisted. I unexpectedly realized that I had found a friend in Jack. A true friend. "We'll drink cheap beer, ride on the roller coaster till we throw up," I laughed out loud, "And we'll ride horses, right on the surf. But none of that side saddle stuff. No, you have to do it like a real cowboy."

"You mean…one leg on each side!" I was taken aback and delighted at the same time. "Can you show me?" He nodded. "Teach me to ride like a man." I said.

"And shoot tobacco like a man."

"And…spit like a man."

"Sure, we'll do it," he said, "Come on!" I struggled. Spit? Now?

"No, Jack, no, I couldn't possibly, Jack." He dragged me to the rail and held on, arched his neck and made a gross sound him collecting spit in his mouth and then he just…spit! I laughed "That's disgusting!" I said. But he told me to try it, which I did reluctantly.

"That was pathetic!" He exclaimed. He told me to try again, really get some body to it. The second time I did better. Oh, diary, I can't believe I'm writing this. I spent time spitting! And just as Jack was showing me how to spit "properly" again, I saw the most terrifying thing. Mother was coming! She was right next to me when Jack finally realized that I was hitting him arm, trying to get him to stop.

I was instantly composed. "Mother!" I said, "My I introduce Jack Dawson."

"Pleasure," said Mother, looking at him like a disgusting insect that must be squashed quickly. Molly Brown was with her and she indicated to Jack that he had some spit on his chin, which he quickly wiped away. I told them all about how he saved me (the fictional version anyway) and Molly said, "Well, Jack, looks like you're good to have around in a sticky spot." A horn announced that dinner would soon be served and Molly made a comment about it sounding like a "damn cattle recharge." I said goodbye to Jack and Mother and I left to go dress. We are about to go now. Mother is calling me. I have taken too long, writing in this diary. So I must go, but I will write all about dinner (which should be interesting since a 3rd classman shall be around those in 1st) tomorrow and won't miss a detail.

Your friend,

Rose

P.S. Is it wrong that I'm so excited to see Jack? I can talk to him. I really really really like him. Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack. I am such a fool. For some reason I would be content with writing 'Jack' all day. But I mustn't set my cap on him. I'm with Cal. Joy…


	6. April 14, 1912 Early Morning

April 14, 1912

Very early morning

Dear Diary,

The sun has just risen. I'm tired but I was too exhilarated to sleep much. I woke early again and came up here to the deck to write. It's cold, but I wear a coat and hat and a thick scarf is wrapped tight around my neck. The air smells of salt water and the only sounds I can hear are the splashing of the waves along the side of this great ship, and the scratching of my pen upon this paper. Last night was amazing. Without a doubt the greatest night of my life. I'll start with dinner. Mother and Cal left for the dining saloon a few moments before I. I stayed behind a moment because I realized I had forgotten to hide my diary. I told them to go ahead without me. A minute later I was walking through the carpeted corridor to the grand staircase, which is the most beautiful place on the inside of Titanic. It has intricate carvings, gold trimming along the rail, and an almost celestial glass dome presides overhead. Natural light shone through it, illuminating everything. (I promised last night not to miss a thing, right?)

I walked gracefully down the steps, the way my governess had taught me when I was a girl, so that my head didn't bop up and down. I looked around eagerly for Jack, but didn't see him. Then I noticed a man with blonde hair similar to his (except slicked back) with his back turned to me. He seemed to notice Mother and Cal passing him and prepared to greet him, but they ignored him. I don't think they recognized him. Jack, who always wears old earth tones and suspenders, was in a new tux! Molly Brown later told me she had lent it to him. Finally, Jack noticed me, only a few feet in front of him. He turned toward me looking absolutely pompous, and it was so strange for him, that I couldn't help but laugh a little. He stepped forward and greeted me, then took my gloved hand, held it to my lips and kissed it. Then he burst out laughing! He said something like, "I saw that in the Nickelodeon once and I always wanted to do it." I realized then that Jack was still the same old friendly guy who I liked so much. We calmed down and I took his arm and led him over to my group.

I tapped Cal on the shoulder and he and Mother turned around. "Darling, surely you remember Mr. Dawson," I said. Both of them sort of screwed up their faces a little and looked rather shocked.

Mother laughed a little and Cal said, "Mr. Dawson…Amazing…you could almost pass for a gentleman."

"Almost," said Jack. Mother and Cal turned to go to dinner and I stayed arm in arm with Jack. We began to proceed forward and Jack stuck his nose up in the air, making me laugh. Molly joined us and Jack escorted us to dinner. I pointed out to him some of the people in 1st class; the Astor's, the Duff Gordon's, so on and so forth. All of then had an interesting background, but I'm not going to dwell on them. I want to write about dinner.

Jack must have been nervous, but he never faltered. They assumed he was one of them; heir to a railroad fortune perhaps. New money, obviously, but still, a member of the club. Mother, of course could always be counted upon. "Tell me of the accommodations in steerage, Mr. Dawson. I hear they're quite good on this ship," Mother said, smirking. She was sitting next on Cal's right, I on his left. Jack and Molly Brown were opposite us and there were about 10 other very rich people at our table.

"Best I've seen, ma'am; hardly any rats," he said, brushing off the clear insult on Mother's part that most would have found terribly offensive. Everyone laughed lightly.

Cal told everyone of how Jack was from 3rd class and had been of assistance to me last night. A steward came and asked Jack how he liked his caviar. "No caviar for me, thanks." Jack said. "Never did like it much." He looked at me pokerfaced and I smiled. Mother frowned disapprovingly. I then pointed out that Jack was a fine artist, which seemed to impress Mr. Andrews, but not Mother or Cal.

"And where exactly do you live?" Mother asked him.

"Well," he began, "Right now my address is the RMS Titanic, and after that I'm on God's good humor."

"And how is it you have means to travel?" She asked, determined to make him feel inferior.

"I work my way from place to place. You know tramp steamers and such. But I won my ticket on Titanic here at a lucky hand of poker. A very lucky hand." Then he looked to me.

"All life is a game of luck," Colonel Gracie chimed in.

"A real man makes him own luck, Archie" said Cal, "Right, Dawson?"

"And you find this sort of rootless existence appealing, do you?" she said skeptically. Molly gave her that 'cold as ice stare' and I was worried that Jack may be embarrassed. But he wasn't.

"Well, yes ma'am, I do," he said thoughtfully. (This is his little speech as best as I can remember it) "I mean, I have everything I need right here with me. I've got the air in my lungs, and a few blank sheets of paper. I mean, I like waking up each day not knowing what's gonna happen, where I'm gonna end up, and who I'm gonna meet," our eyes met, locked, and my heart rate seemed to speed up. "Just the other night I was sleeping under a bridge and now I'm on the grandest ship in the world having champagne with you fine people. I figure life's a gift and I don't intend on wasting it. You never know what hand you're gonna get dealt next. You learn to take life as it comes at you. To make each day count." We stared at each other for a long moment, I truly moved at what he had said.

"Well said, Jack," Molly told him.

"Here, here!" cried Archie Gracie.

I raised my glass in a toast. "To making it count," I said.

"To making it count," they all repeated. He smiled and looked quite pleased with himself, and Mother was clearly annoyed. She had 'outed' him as a 3rd classman, thinking the others would shun him for it. But instead he had won them over. I like him for that, and especially for pissing off Mother so much. Then the conversation shifted to other matters, though the whole time I could feel Jack staring at me. Honestly, every now and then I would steel a glance at him as well.

After about another 30 minutes, our plates were being cleared and I leaned in and whispered to Jack, "Next it will be brandies in the smoking room." As if on queue, Mr. Gracie stood up and invited the gentlemen to a brandy. I shook my head at their pettiness. "Now they retreat to a cloud of smoke and congratulate each other on being masters of the universe." He nodded and laughed. He then stood up and said goodbye to Cal, then turned to me. "Jack, must you go?" I said.

"Time for me to go row with the other slaves," he said, and we both chuckled. He bent down and kissed my hand, then walked away, looking back. I noticed he had slipped a little scrap of paper in my hand. I looked around to make sure no one was watching and read it. It said, "Make it count. Meet me at the clock." The thought, _Should I?_ ran through my head, and I made my decision. I told Mother I was feeling tired, though in truth I was fresh as a daisy. I walked up the grand staircase, no longer filled with natural light from the dome, for it was night. As if he sensed me, Jack turned around as I neared him and said, "So, you wanna go to a real party?"

Needless to say, within minutes we were below decks, with the 3rd class. I had never been down there before. I admit, I expected nothing but unrefined hooligans, and I was right! And I loved it! They were a jolly bunch, rough and drunk, but fun and carefree. The second Jack led me down the steps to the 3rd class general room, I was swept away by all the noise and music and dancing and laughing and yelling. Jack and I sat down at an empty table and drank some beer. I can't for the life of me remember the last time I drank beer! It was great! Then Jack abruptly stood up. "Wanna dance?" He said. I shook my head. He shrugged and a little girl, about 5, came up to him and tugged on his shirt. He and the girl, whose name is Cora, went out onto the dance floor and danced and danced. He looked so good out their, I could hardly stand it. Part of me wanted to go join him, but I just couldn't. I was fine listening to the Irish music and watching the other people, many of whom were drunk. But then the band stopped and Jack came over to me. "Come on," he said.

"What?" I asked. He just took my hand and led me to the center of the dance floor. "No! Jack, no! I can't, Jack," I said, for I have never been much for risk taking. Finally, we were in position and the band started up again. "Jack," I said, "I can't do this."

"We're gonna have to get a little bit closer," he said, ignoring my protests. "Like this," and he pulled me in closer, so that our bodies were touching. The music sped up and he began to pull me around the floor, while I screamed in a combination of fear and delight.

"I don't know the steps!" I cried.

"Neither do I! Just go with it!" It's hard to describe the dance. We spun around and around, holding hands, screaming and laughing breathlessly. Every now and then I would scream for him to stop, but he never did. And I'm glad. It was an odd predicament. I kept wanting it to stop, but at the same time, I wanted it to go on and on.

Suddenly, Jack swept me onto a raised platform and started to tap dance with the beat! I laughed and took off my shoes and tossed them to a lady. Then I tap danced too! A different beat started and Jack and I did a hoe down type number the joined hand and started spinning in dizzy circles. "No!" I cried, laughing as the room spun behind Jack's face. At last we let go together and fell almost off the platform. He ran over (though it took him a while, he was so dizzy) and helped me to my feet. We ran over to a table and he passed me a beer, which I gulped down. Jack looked at me, with impressed shock written upon his face. "What?" I said, "You think a first class girl can't drink?" Some men were arm wrestling, and since I never get opportunity to speak to men in such a way, I said, "So, you think you're big tough men?" I removed the cigarette from one of their mouths and took a drag. "Let's see you do this!" I handed the train of my gown to Jack.

In my stocking feet I assumed a ballet stance; arms raised, and went up on point, taking my entire weight on the tips of my toes. The guys gaped at my dare I say incredible muscle control. I came back down, then my face screwed up in pain. I grabbed one foot, hopping around. I feel upon Jack, laughing. I few minutes later, the music started once and I danced with Jack again. And again. And again. I've never felt so alive! The night went on and on, and actually lasted until very, very, very early morning. I was terribly disappointed when it ended.

Jack said he would walk me up to my cabin, but as we were nearing it, I led him in another direction and we emerged onto the deck. I just didn't want the night to end. We were singing "Come Josephine" together. Then we stopped and quieted when we noticed the beautiful night. It was rather awkward and I didn't know what to say. The last time we had been completely alone together was the night I tried to…you know…kill myself. I stared up at the sky in disbelief. It was so beautiful, it took my breath away. I leaned back against a davit and stared up at the cosmos.

"It's magnificent, isn't it?" I said, after a long silence, "So grand and endless." I went over to the rail and leaned back on it. Part of me actually wanted to cry. Cry for the beauty of it all, and cry because I knew how much I liked Jack, but how I was stuck with Cal. I turned to Jack, wanting him to know that I liked him, but unable to tell him, and said, "They're such small people, Jack... my crowd. They think they're giants on the earth, but they're not even dust in God's eye. They live inside this little tiny champagne bubble... and someday the bubble's going to burst."

As if Jack knew exactly what I was feeling, He leaned at the rail next to me, his hand just touching mine. It was the slightest contact imaginable, and all I could feel was that square inch of skin where our hands were touching. I heard Jack take a deep breath, as if he were looking for something to me. "You're not one of them," he told me. "There's been a mistake."

"A mistake?"

"Yeah," he said, "like you got mailed to the wrong address."

I laughed. "I did, didn't I?" Then, something caught my eye and I pointed up towards the heavens. "Look!" I cried, "A shooting star!" Together we watched the long tail of light fly through the sky.

"That was a long one. My father used to say that whenever you saw one, it was a soul going to heaven," Jack said, almost talking to himself.

I thought of my brother. "I like that," I said. "But aren't we supposed to wish on it?"

Jack turned to me, smiling. I could feel his attraction to me. "What would you wish for?" He asked. Jack looked at me, and found that we were suddenly very close together. It would have been so easy to move another couple of inches, and kiss. Jack seemed to be thinking the same thing.

I wanted to say, "I would wish for Jack Dawson," lean in and kiss him, but I remembered Cal. I remembered him and my obligation to my family that I could not get out of, how I could not go on fooling myself, and now wishes never come true. "Something I can have," I answered, smiling sadly. I stood straight and leaned away from him and the rail. "Goodnight, Jack, and thank you." And with that, I turned and walked through the first class entrance, though I would have done anything not to. I could hear him calling after me, but I just kept walking. I slipped into my room unnoticed and tried to sleep. Now, here I am on the boat deck. I wish the night had ended that way. But still, I can not forget that party! I'm afraid I have written more than I intended. I must be off now. Breakfast with Cal. Oh, God, how can I face him, while I know my secret feelings for Jack? God be with me…

Your friend,

Rose

A/N: I know I left out some conversation here and there but it's so it would seem more realistic as a diary, and what one person would be able to remember. But I don't know if this is any good because it's all kind of new (this kind of writing, I mean). Please, Please, REVIEW! PLEASE! I will love you forever if you would just review! Pretty Please with sugar on top!


	7. April 14, 1912 Early Afteroon

April 14, 1912

Early Afternoon

Dear Diary,

I am shaking with a combination of anger and fear. I hate Mother. I hate Cal. I hate my life. I don't know where to begin. I'll start with after I finished writing in my diary earlier this morning. I slipped it in my drawstring purse and headed back to my cabin to change for breakfast. I was glad that I had avoided Mother and Cal in doing so. After I was in yet another expensive dress, I went up to Cal's private promenade deck where Trudy and Maud were laying out breakfast. When Cal arrived we sat down together, but didn't say much. He asked me if I felt well, I said yes. I asked him if he had heard the news about us maybe docking a day early. He said he had. Trudy offered him more coffee, and he shook his head and excused her. When we were all alone, he leaned in and said in a low voice, "I hoped you would come to me last night."

"I was tired," I said, for obvious reasons.

"Your excursions below deck were no doubt exhausting."

Suddenly, I was furious! "I see you had that undertaker of a manservant follow me, how typical," I snapped, thinking he had no right to invade my privacy.

"You are not to behave like that again, Rose," he said sternly.

What? An order? I took a deep breath. "I'm not a foreman in one of your mills that you can command," I said, gaining courage. "I'm you fiancé!"

"My fiancé," he repeated quietly. Then he looked up at me and screamed, "My fiancé! YES YOU ARE! AND MY WIFE!" He emphasized his point by standing up and overturning the breakfast table! The breakfast and china crashed to the floor and I let out a scream. Terrified, I cowered in my chair. "My wife in practice if not yet by law, so you will honor me!" He was now within an inch of me and could have spit or slapped if he wished. "You will honor me the way a wife is required to honor a husband." Then he leaned body close to mine. His breath was foul and I was scared stiff. "_Is this in any way unclear_?"

Trembling in my seat, I shook my head. "No," I whispered.

"Good," he said, composed. Then he turned and walked over some of the broken china toward the door. "Good morning," he said as if nothing had happened to Trudy who was just entering.

After he left she ran to my side and started to clean up. I tried to help her, but she kept saying, "It's fine, I've got it Miss Rose." I continued to pick up what was once a vase but then collapsed and started to cry in fear. I couldn't breath right in my corset and I gasped for air. She touched my shoulder and I hugged her. After a few minutes of crying, she helped me to my feet and led me back to my cabin. I was poised, now. I was, however, so mad at Cal. How could he do that? I think he would have killed me had I talked back to him. How can I marry him? I was feeling hurt and confused when I looked at the clock and realized it was time I dress for church. Actually, it was the Devine Service, intended for people of all religions to come worship. And as Trudy was helping me get laced up into my corset, Mother burst in and ordered Trudy to bring us some tea.

She took the maids place and helped me get laced up. "You're not to see that boy again," she said, referring to Mr. Dawson. I remained silent, pretending I hadn't heard. "Rose!" she said, "I forbid it."

"Oh, stop it Mother," I said, "you'll give yourself a nosebleed."

Angrily, she turned me around to face her. "This is not a game," she said, her voice soft, as if she were trying to hide something. 'Our situation is precarious. You know the money's gone."

"Of course I know," I said. "You remind me every day."

"Your father left us nothing but a legacy of bad debts hidden by a good name. That name is the only card we have to play," she said, as if I were a child who knew nothing of the world. "I don't understand you! It is a fine match with Hockley. It will insure our survival."

Did she know what she was asking of me? "How can you put this on my shoulders?" I asked, feeling hurt and lost.

"Why are you being so selfish?" she cried.

"I'm being selfish?" I said. Did she have any idea what she was saying? I was about to throw my whole life away so that she could have more money.

Now she searched my eyes with hers, clearly looking for sympathy. "Do you want to see me working as a seamstress?" she said, "Is that what you want? To see our fine things sold at auction? Our memories scattered to the winds?" she covered her mouth to keep from crying.

I leaned back against the bed post and sighed, knowing I had no choice but to obey. "It's so unfair," I said.

"Of course it's unfair." Mother told me, "We're women. Our choices are never easy." Then she held my face in her hands and I wasn't sure if she was going to kiss me or spit on me. She kissed my forehead and turned me around and laced up my corset even tighter.

Oh, I am so angry, and hurt, and confused. I don't know what to do. I want to see Jack again. But I can't. It would hurt too much. I just wish he could know how much I like him. I have to go to the Devine Service now, but I will continue later tonight.

Your friend,

Rose


	8. April 14, 1912 After Sunset

April 14, 1912

Later; After Sunset

Dear Diary,

This will perhaps be a very long entry, though I want to write quickly, so it may end up being rather sloppy. There is so much I have to tell you! This turned out to be quite a day! Ok, it all started after the Devine Service. I went for a tour of the ship with Mother and Cal, given by Mr. Andrews and Captain Smith. It started at the bridge (which is where everything is controlled from). They were showing us the steering wheels. I pretended to listen while Mother asked boring questions, such as, "So why are there two steering wheels?" Then a steward or something ran to the Captain with a slip of paper.

"Another ice warning," said the steward. I must have looked concerned, for Captain Smith told me not to worry, and that it was quite normal for this time of year.

Then we made our way along the deck and I listened to Mr. Andrews telling me all about Titanic. He said, "Titanic is the largest ship in all history. She's 11 stories tall. She currently has more than 2,200 passengers and crew on board, though she can hold more than 3,000!" I admit, I was rather impressed that a mere ship could hold 3,000 souls. Why ships are called 'she' still has yet to be adequately explained to me, though.

As we walked past a series of lifeboats, I asked Mr. Andrews, "Forgive me, but with the number of lifeboats times the capacity you mentioned earlier, it seems that there are not enough for everyone aboard."

"About half actually. Rose, you miss nothing, do you?" He seemed impressed. He noticed my expression and said, "I originally had plans for more boats, but it was thought, by some, that the deck would look too cluttered. Don't worry. She's all the lifeboat you need." Then Cal made a comment about how even a few lifeboats (20, actually) were a waste of deck space for an unsinkable ship. I straightened up and followed my group aft, when someone came out from behind a boat and grabbed my arm, pulling me into an empty room (the gym, actually). As he did so, I realized it was Jack. This was an odd predicament, seeing as how I had promised never to make contact with him again.

"Jack, this is impossible," I said, "I can't see you." I tried to leave but he held me there gently against the window.

"Rose, listen to me," he said. "You're no picnic. You're a spoiled little brat even." I tried again to leave but he grabbed my arm and forced me to listen, "But under that, you're the most amazingly, astounding, wonderful girl…woman that I've ever know." I could tell he was having trouble saying all this and I tried to interrupt. "No, just let me try and get this out," he said. "I'm not an idiot. I know how the world works. I've got 10 bucks in my pocket and I have nothing to offer you. But I'm too involved now. You jump, I jump, remember."

At that moment I wanted nothing more than to throw myself into his arms. But I did nothing of the sort. "Well, I'm fine." I told him, "I'll be fine."

"Really?" he said. "I don't think so. They've got you trapped! And you're gonna die if you don't break free! Maybe not right away, because you're strong." He touched his hand to my cheek. "But sooner or later, that fire that I love about you, that fire is gonna burn out."

"It's not up to you to save me, Jack," I said.

"You're right. Only you can do that." I moved my hand onto his and held it there. I was seriously considering kissing him, but I did not. I just couldn't.

"Leave me alone," I said. "I'm going back." And with that I turned and walked out the door, though I would have done anything in the world not to. You see, dear diary, I knew that I had to listen to what Mother told me earlier. I had to stay with Cal. I made a promise. He gave me a ring and I said yes. And I felt that even though I wanted to tell Jack that he was the one I wanted to be with, I couldn't.

I ran and reluctantly caught up with my group, who hadn't even noticed I was gone. We finished our tour, and Cal went off with Mr. Ismay to discuss business and politics, and I went off with Mother for tea with the Countess of Rothes and Lucile Duff Gordon. I paid no attention to their petty mind numbing conversation. I believe Mother was complaining about me to the other ladies. But I turned my head and noticed a little girl sitting at a table next to her mother.

The girl couldn't have been more than 4 years old, but she looked almost like a miniature adult. She was wearing white gloves, and a white dress and a large hat, and was daintily picking up a cookie. The mother corrected her on her posture, and the way she held the teacup. The little girl was trying so hard to please, her expression serious. It was a glimpse of me at that age, and I felt the relentless conditioning... the pain to becoming an Edwardian geisha. And I thought of the daughter I may have some day. In order to be a proper girl, she would have to be trained in such a way. But I realized then that I don't want to do that. That I don't want to be my Mother. Calmly and deliberately, I turned my teacup over, spilling tea all over my dress.

"Oh, look what I've done," I said. And I excused myself, allowing Mother and her friends thinking I was going to go change. But I didn't. Following my gut instincts, I went down to the 3rd class general room and asked Fabrizio (that's a friend of Jack's. I met him at the party last night) a question. I got my answer and I walked hastily out of the room and made my way back up to the deck.

It was late in the day and the sun was close to setting. I was now near the front of the ship, making my way nearer and nearer to it. I saw a figure standing motionless at the edge of the bow, looking over the rail. I took a deep breath. "Hello, Jack," I said. Upon hearing my voice, he turned around, looking puzzled. "I changed my mind," I said. He smiled. There it was; that smile that I love so much. I walked closer. "They said you might be up here—"

"Shh," he hushed, putting a finger to his lips. He came close to me and said, "Give me your hand." I placed mine in his and he held it tight. He pulled me to within inches of him, and I prepared myself for him to kiss me. But he didn't. Instead, he said, "Now close your eyes." I looked at him, a bit bemused. "Go on," he said. Slowly, I squeezed them shut. He led me forward. "Step up," he told me. "Hold on to the rail," he said, and I squeezed my. "Keep your eyes closed, don't peek."

"I'm not." I said

"Now step up onto the rail," he said. As if by instinct, my feet stepped onto the railing. I felt unsteady as I balanced on there, but then Jack stepped up as well and held me by the waist. "Hold on. Keep your eyes closed," he said. "Do you trust me?"

"I trust you," I said, and I meant it with all my heart.

He let go of me, then he took my two hands and raised them until I was standing with my arms outstretched on each side. I was going along with him. When he let go of them and lowered his hands back down to my waist, my arms stayed up… like wings. "Alright," he said. "Open your eyes."

I opened them and gasped. There was nothing in her field of vision but ocean. It was almost like there was no ship under us at all, just the two of us soaring. The Atlantic unrolled toward mw, a hammered copper shield under a dusk sky. There was only the wind, and the hiss of the water 50 feel below. "I'm flying!" I cried, "Jack!" I'm sure I was smiling an enormous smile. He moved his arms up and we held hands, flying together.

He put his cheek near my ear and sang "our" song softly, "_Come Josephine in my flying machine, and it's up she goes, up she goes_."

I leaned forward, arching my back and closed my eyes feeling myself floating weightless far above the sea. I smiled dreamily as I leaned back, gently pressing my back against his chest. He pushed forward slightly against me. Slowly he raised his hands, arms outstretched, and they meet mine... fingertips gently touching. Then our fingers intertwined. Moving slowly, our fingers caress through and around each other like the bodies of two—dare I say it—lovers. Jack tipped his face forward into my blowing hair.

I turned my head until my lips were near his. I lowered my arms, turning further, until I found his mouth with hers. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, and we kissed like this with my head turned and tilted back, surrendering to him, to the emotion, to the inevitable. We kissed slowly and tremulously, and then with building passion. I realized as this magical moment happened that I…I love him. And together, as the sun fell beneath the horizon, Jack and I soared together into a night without fear.

Oh, dear diary, it has been the best day of my life! I am in love! In love! I can't believe it. I have to tell him soon. I know he feels the same way. And I know that it's right. I have never felt this way before. Like my stomach is in knots, and I want to be sick. It's the best! I want too be with him every moment. To tell him things. Things I have never told anyone. And I want to know everything about him. But I will. Soon. We have our whole lives. This is not just silly teenage love. I'm a mature 17. He's a street smart 20. We are beyond silly romances (though this is my first; my first kiss as well!). Jack…when I'm with him…he makes me want to be different…better. I have spent my whole life being told by only two people that I'm really special; my brother and my grandmother. And now Jack is in my life and he makes me feel more beautiful, smarter, and more special than I ever have before. And I never want that feeling to die. But I haven't even gotten to the most interesting part of the day! Jack is waiting for me, so I'm going to have to write this fast. I want to be with him. Okay, here it goes.

The kiss went on an on, and then somehow, it stopped. Probably when we realized it was dark. He jumped down from the rail and held me by the middle and helped me get down, both of us laughing. We looked at each other with love in our eyes. I took him by the hand and pulled him toward my suit. I had an idea. "What are we doing?" he asked.

"You'll see," I said. As we moved onward, we stopped every now and then to just look at each other. But we made up for lost time by walking very quickly.

As we entered a first class hallway, he realized where I was taking him, and said, "Are you sure this is…you know…alright?"

"It's quite proper, I assure you," I said. I opened the door to my family's suite and entered with Jack. It surprised me how comfortable I felt with him. Like I could really just be myself. "This is the sitting room," I told him. "Will this light do?"

"What?"

"Don't artists need good light?"

"Zat is true," he said in a bad French accent, "But I am not used to working in such 'orreeble conditions." I laughed. He looked around and spotted one of the paintings I had bought. "Monet!" he said. He rushed over and knelt beside the picture, examining it.

"You know his work?" I asked.

"Of course!" he told me, clearly in awe. He pointed to the lily pads in the water smothered in light. "Look at his use of color here. Isn't he great?"

"I know," I said, happy that we had common interest, "It's extraordinary." He gave the painting a long look and then got up and faced me. "Hold on," I said, and I ran to the wardrobe where Cal keeps his big, unattractive green safe. "Cal insists on carting this hideous thing everywhere," I entered the combination: 7:92:67. (But shh, diary. Don't tell anyone the combination!)

"Should we be expecting him any time soon?" Asked Jack as I took a box out of the vault and closed the door.

"Not as long as the cigars and brandy hold out," I said. I took the necklace out of it's case and showed it to him.

"This is nice," he commented, inspecting it. "Is it a sapphire?"

"A diamond," I corrected. "A very rare diamond." Jack examined it closer an shook his head at such wealth. "Jack," I continued, "I want you to draw me like one of your French girls, wearing this."

"Alright," Jack said, his eyes still on the jewel.

I looked up at him and smiled, knowing what I was about to say was entirely unlike me. "Only this," I said. He gave me a look of pure shock. I blushed. We went through the whole "Are you sure?" and "Yes, yes, I'm sure" bit, and then, a few minutes later, I was in my room getting undressed, and he was in the sitting room getting set up.

My stomach wasn't cooperating with me as I removed my dress and struggled with my corset. (I hate corsets. I swear they were made by Satan!) I examined myself in the mirror for a few moments. I am hardly skinny and emaciated. I am a bit plump. But my body is still slender, even with a few curves. My chest is rather large for someone my age. It always as been and it always annoyed me. I just condemned me to wearing tighter corsets. After a moment, I put on my silk kimono and let down my hair. Then I attached the dreadfully heavy heart shaped diamond.

Finally it could be put off no longer. I emerged from my room into the parlor where Jack had been sharpening his charcoal. He stopped and looked up at me, clearly a bit nervous. I played it cool. "The last thing I need is another picture of me looking like a porcelain doll," I said, and tossed a dime into his hands. "As a paying customer," I continued, "I expect to get what I want." And with that, I took a deep breath in, let it out, and parted the kimono. It fell to the floor and I stood in front of Jack, completely naked. Me! Ha!

Oh, and Jack looked completely stricken. Almost comical! He snapped back to reality and stopped staring. "Over on the bed…Uh…couch," he said, indicating the sofa he had moved to the center of the room, right in front of his own chair. He told me to lie down, and then said to put one hand by my eye, the other on a pillow. It was sort of a cat-like pose. The whole time, I still couldn't believe I was doing this. And yet, I could. I felt so comfortable around him, it wasn't a big deal. I would have felt so utterly exposed Cal sat in front of me instead of Jack. Anyway, he let out a deep breath and started to draw. He was concentrating very hard.

"So serious," I said. He laughed. I'm not exactly sure how much time passed, but I didn't mind. I was lost in thought. Thoughts about Jack, and how I wanted to stay with him. But how would I tell him. And how would I tell Mother and Cal? Then I noticed Jack again, and said, "I believe you are blushing, Mr. Big Artiste." He smiled and turned an even darker shade of red. "I can't imagine Mr. Monet blushing."

Jack glanced up at me with that 'are you serious?' expression written upon his face. "He does landscapes," he said, sweating. I stifled a laugh. "Relax your face," he said.

"Sorry." I watched his eyes as they moved from onto the paper to me, then back again. My heart was pounding the whole time. It was the most erotic moment of my life so far, and I can't imagine I will ever want anyone more.

But when Jack finally said, "There. Done," and walked over to the sofa with my robe, he did not kiss me or touch me or even stare. He just gave it to me and smiled. And for some reason, I liked that more. The fact that he is willing _not_ to touch, makes me only want to be touched more. I blush now as I write this. And even though he had just stared at me completely bare for perhaps an hour, he turned around as I put on the kimono. I then approached him in his chair and admired the portrait. It was beautiful! He captured my soul in it. It is so realistic and pragmatic, and yet so distant and dream-like. One has to see it to understand it.

I leaned over him in his chair and met his stare. "Thank you," I whispered. He leaned in toward me and kissed me. I kissed him back with all the infatuation and passion in me. We laughed as we did so. I have never kissed a boy before today. No one has ever seen me naked. At least not since I was three or something. I have never been in love and I have never been happy. But now I am. I have this strange desire to go into the dining room and scream "I LOVE JACK DAWSON!" Jack. Jack. Jack Dawson. Jack Dawson. Jack Dawson. Rose Dawson. Jack and Rose Dawson. I would be content with writing such things all day. And I could almost cry, I am so happy.

I suppose Jack and I were planning on staying in my suit a while longer, so I had Jack put his portfolio (containing my portrait) in the safe, as I wrote a little note addressed to Cal to go along with it. This is what it said: _Darling, Now you can keep us both locked in your safe._ Cal will see it and know it is over. He will try to win me back, maybe force me back, but he will not. I, Rose Dewitt Bukater, vow that I shall not go back to Cal. Ever.

I am in my room now. Jack waits just outside. I have been in here for a while. I just put on a rather plain dress. It is layers so soft lavender silk with a pink sash around the waist and a white bodice. And even though it is absent of heavy embroidery and beads, I have never felt more beautiful. I am leaving my hair down. It looks perfect. Not a curl out of place. And yet I sense that Jack would not give a horse's ass if I shaved my head and wore trousers! He loves me. I know it. And I return his love in full measure. I have written so much! I want to see Jack! So I shall write more later. Perhaps tomorrow. Goodbye, and wish me luck!

Your friend,

Rose

P.S. I don't know what is going to happen with Jack tonight. Be prepared for a wild next entry. No day but today! Oh yeah, I'm not even wearing a corset! I'm such a rebel…

Ok, so deep breath, and I'm off!

A/N: Hey guys. I don't know how this chapter was. I know that she probably wouldn't have had time to write so much, but you all know what artistic liberty is, so I changed so that she would. All I know is that I got really emotional while writing this chapter, and even though it's not my best, I poured my and Rose's heart and soul into it. So PLEASE tell me what you think! I love reviews and really need them as well, so I know how to write the next chapter. PLEASE REVIEW! Thank you!


	9. April 15, 1912

>Hey guys. It took me FOREVER to update. Sorry. I had it done before, but when I read through it, I felt I had rushed too much while writing it. It was only half as long as this one and not as good. So read it and PLEASE review, because they help soooo much. Your suggestions mean a lot, and it's also motivating. Someone asked me to put in scenes that wern't in the movie, and I probably wouldn't have done that if you hadn't put that in the review. So um...yeah...here's the chapter 

April 15, 1912

Carpathia

Dear Diary,

"Today was lovely. Everything is perfect and I just love my life. Jack and I are planning to marry."

That is what I so badly want to write. With all my heart and soul, I wish that was the truth. It's not, though. Okay, here it goes:

I am overcome with emotion. Heartache, despair, love, compassion, guilt, sadness, depression, loneliness, emptiness, and above all, sorrow. I am completely overcome with sorrow. I don't know how to write this. I don't know if I can. My hand may not be able to. It may just stop working. And that wouldn't be so bad. I keep telling myself that if I don't admit it, it just didn't happen. But that's so unhealthy, so I will try. But that's all I can give you. I will make no guarantees.

I will start from the beginning and work my way till morning. Let's see, where did I leave off. It was right after the drawing. That beautiful drawing. I emerged from my room wearing that lovely pinkish dress I told you about earlier. Jack had been looking out the window, and he approached me, saying "It's getting cold."

"Oh," I said, concerned. I hate the cold.

"Hey, you look nice." He skimmed me up and down. I wondered if he was picturing me with my close off, as he had seen me earlier. But before I had time to thank him, I heard the clack of a key in the lock. Someone was coming! I grabbed Jack's arm and rushed toward my room. "My drawings!" he whispered when he realized that mine was in the safe where anyone could find it. (He was oblivious to my plan for Cal to find it.) But I hushed him and forced him into my room. Then we quietly escaped to the hallway and walked down the hall, thinking proudly how clever we were to have alluded Lovejoy. But then I heard a door close behind me and turned around to see him walking after us. We sped up and so did he. Then we started to run! We kept bumping into people as we made our way to the elevators.

"Down! Go! Now! Hurry!" We shouted as we stumbled inside. Jack closed the door just in time for Lovejoy to slam his hands up against it. Jack mocked him and I made a…rude gesture for lack of better terms! Ha! We were laughing our heads off! After we were down a few floors below, we ran down a flight of stairs and Jack bumped into a man and knocked over a tray of tea. We hurried behind a closed door and tried to catch our breath. I swear, that was the most fun I've had in years. "Pretty tough for a valet, this fella," Jack commented. "He seems more like a cop."

"I think he was."

"Oh shit!" Jack cried, he realized that Lovejoy had caught up to us.

"GO!" I shrieked. He raced through the hall with Lovejoy close behind. I screamed with delight as Jack pushed me into the nearest room and locked the valet out. A loud noise, recognizable as the engines, filled our ears and we covered them. He shouted at each other but couldn't hear a thing. Eventually, we ended up climbing down a ladder and found ourselves in one of the boiler rooms! I looked around in wonder and amazement. Smoke and steam were everywhere.

A worker ran up to us. "What are you doing down here!" Jack seized my hand and again we began to run, ignoring the worker shouting, "It could be dangerous!"

As we rushed by, the laborers watched us curiously. "Don't mind us!" Jack cried, making me laugh, 'You're doing a great job, just keep up the good work!" I was sweating terribly from the heat and the running, so when we found ourselves in a storage room, I shivered from the sudden cold. The room was very large and plain, with exposed pipes on the whitewashed walls and ceilings. There were stacks of crates and trunks belonging to the passengers. "Well, look here," Jack said and we marched over to a shiny new black and red Renault. Jack inspected it, impressed, and I stood smiling, watching him. I cleared my throat and indicated the closed door in front of me. He grinned and opened it, and held my hand as I climbed in.

"Thank you," I said, sounding stuck up. He sat in the drivers seat and beeped the horn.

"Where to, Miss?" He said in a bad English accent.

I slid down the window separating us and whispered in his ear, "To the stars." Our eyes met and giggling, took hold of his arms and pulled him into the back seat with me.

So now we were just sitting there together, facing one another, and his arm was wrapped around me. I touched his face, cherishing him. His free hand stroked my hair and I took it and kissed his artist fingers. Gentle but strong. Roughened by work. I felt his soft touch upon me and felt terribly sexual. Diary, you must promise not to judge. Should I be ashamed of what I'm about to tell you? Or embarrassed? Perhaps, but I am not. I looked into his eyes and made my decision. "Put your hands on me, Jack," I whispered. I took his hand and moved it to cover my breast. We leaned into each other and started kissing, and I slid down the seat under his welcome weight.

It's hard to describe exactly what led to the events that followed. As if by instinct, or perhaps just impulse and desire, I started to remove his coat and flung it onto the floor or the car, and he raised his arms as I pulled his shirt over his head. My dress was a bit of a struggle, though my slip came right off. I don't know how I should word this next statement. I've been taught to be discreet, but this is a journal after all. So, I'll say this. When I stepped into that car, I was an untouched virgin. But when I stepped out, I was not. I felt myself surrender to him…to his touch. I will never forget that touch. And yes, we made love. Right there in the car. It was without a doubt, the best experience in all my life, as it came from true love. We continued kissing the whole time, sometimes he ran his fingers through my hair. It was perfect. The windows began to fog and it was getting late, but we didn't care. I felt as if the rest of the world no longer existed. Like we were the only two people on earth. There was a time only days ago when I would have done anything to avoid going on this ship. But at that moment, I would have done anything to stay on it. To stay below decks. In that car. With Jack. I became more overwhelmed in it, and in a moment of passion, I felt my hand suddenly slam up against the fogged back window, and then slide down in a veil of condensation. Jack and I were intertwined now. As one. His coat covered us like a blanket. He was above me and both of us were naked and sweaty. We looked at each other with adore and love. I don't know why I didn't say those 3 small words then. It didn't occur to me. But he knew it. He knew I loved him.

Jack was shaking. "You're trembling," I said.

"Don't worry," he said, his breath heavy. "I'll be alright." We kissed again. I then kissed his forehead and he rested his head upon my chest. I just held him for dear life. A few minutes passed in this manner, and then he shot up. "Oh, shiiiiit," he whispered. I knew why. Footsteps.

"Damn it!" I cried softly. We began to dress quickly and quietly, though I only had my slip on when he pulled me out of the car and led me behind a stack of trunks. I tried to be silent as I put on my dress and shoes, but we couldn't help but laugh a little as 2 stewards searched aimlessly for us. Their searchlights flashed from here to there and skimmed everything. Then, one of the lights fell upon my handprint in the car. One of the stewards snapped his fingers, indicating the print to his companion. Jack and I couldn't help but watch as they prepared themselves to catch us.

The steward opened the door, crying "Got yer!" And his light upon the car seat revealed absolutely nothing. Oh, their faces were classic! Conveying sheer stupidity. "What the..." One of them began. Jack and I covered our mouths but could barley contain ourselves. I eyed a door and we quickly crept out of the storage room. We went through the threshold and found ourselves on the boat deck. We were laughing so hard we could hardly stand! Holding hands, we spun around, breathless.

"Did you see their faces!" Jack cried. "Did you see their—"

But then I stopped laughing. It was time to say it. To say it all, and I held a quieting finger to his lips. "When this ship docks," I told him, "I'm getting off with you."

"This is crazy!"

"I know!" I was delighted. "It doesn't make any sense!" I looked at him and he looked at me. It was the moment of truth. "That's why I trust it." We stared at each other and then jumped into yet another kiss. Our longest so far. It was intense. It was passionate. It was everything good. And I so wish I could stop here. That I could put this diary down. But I cannot. Because that kiss was perhaps the last good thing that will ever happen to me. Ever. For as we were kissing, I felt a vibration under my feet. Jack felt it, too. We pulled apart and glanced up and saw it. The iceberg. An enormous iceberg was floating there, scraping the side of this ship. Chunks of ice fell and Jack moved me back to protect me. Then we both stood transfixed for another moment at the almost unearthly berg. That horrible berg. How I now hate that berg.

I'm very cold right now. I'm going to go inside for a bit and get a hot drink. Then I will be back to write more.

_Later_

Let's see. Where was I. Ah, yes. The iceberg. We ran to the side of the ship to try to catch another glimpse of it as we sailed away. For some reason, we were just…drawn to it. And as it faded away into the darkness, I could still feel my heart pounding in my chest. I turned to Jack and neither of us knew what to say.

"Do you think everything's okay?" I asked, feeling that if he said it was okay, then it really was okay.

"Yeah," he said, but he sounded unsure. "Yeah, I'm sure everything's fine. Come here. It's cold." He grabbed my hand and pulled me to him, holding me close against the frigid air. "Let's go," he said, wanting to get away from the side of the ship. I leaned against his chest as we walked, and I could feel his heart beating extra hard as well. We were about to head inside, when a chunk of ice, left over from the berg I suppose, came sliding over to me. Some boys were playing with it. Kicking it around and tossing it and such. So I kicked it back. Soon, Jack and I were playing with them. But still, this didn't ease my nerves. Then some men walked by, talking about flooding.

"This is bad," Jack said, finally being honest.

"We should tell Mother and Cal."

"Now it's worse."

"Oh, come on, Jack. Come with me. You jump, I jump, Right?"

"Right."

I don't know why I needed to tell them the ship was sinking. I think that's not really why I went down there. I didn't care if he knew. That was just my excuse for facing Cal, so I could tell him it was over. I now wish I hadn't taken Jack with me. As we walked down the corridor to my suite, I began to feel a combination of emotions. First of all, I was apprehensive. I didn't know if Cal was going to try and shoot Jack! But I was also relieved. It would finally be over and I could go on living my life with Jack. And then there was hope. I knew Cal wouldn't simply step aside, but I really hoped Mother would defend me.

"Just keep holding my hand, Jack." I told him. I needed his presence. When I was with him, I could feel courage inside me.

Lovejoy was standing a little way in front of us. "We've been looking for you miss," he said, and put his hand on Jack's back. I didn't say anything. I wish I had. But the moment had passed. I long to have said some excellent come back.

"_Yeah, I bet you were." _

"_Why? Are you in love with me? Or maybe with Jack?" _

"_Why have you been looking for me? Maybe so I can help you pull that stick out of your ass. Hmm?" _

Ah, the wisdom of hindsight. Lovejoy held the door open and we all walked in. "Something serious has happened," I said, wondering why Cal and Mother were waiting for me with the master at arms.

"Yes it has," said Cal, an anxious expression written upon his face. "Two things dear to me have disappeared tonight. Now that one is back," he glared at me, "I have a pretty good idea where to find the other. Search him." He indicated Jack.

A steward or whoever he was pulled off his coat, and it was as if a magnetic force drew his hand right into the pocket. It then came out holding—would you believe it—the heart of the ocean. "Is this it, sir?"

Jack's jaw dropped and his eyes nearly bulged out of his head. "This is horse shit!"

"He couldn't have!" I refused to believe it.

"Of course he could have, dear. It's easy enough for a professional."

As I watched the master at arms put the hand cuffs on Jack, I began to feel unsure. "But I was with him the whole time. This is absurd." I trusted Jack. He wouldn't betray me! Surely not! Surely not.

Cal put his lips to my ear and whispered quietly, "Perhaps he did it while you were putting your clothes back _on,_ dear."

As I looked at Jack in chains, the thought occurred to me that he surely _would_!

Finally Jack piped up, "Real slick that Cal, Rose. He put it in my pocket!"

"Shut up!" Cal snapped, perhaps a little too quickly.

"It isn't even your coat is it?" One of the guards looked at the tag, "Property of A. L. Ryerson."

"I just borrowed it, Rose. I was gonna return it!" He seemed to have an excuse for everything.

"An honest thief!" Cal snickered. "We have an honest thief!"

"Rose, you know me! You know I didn't do this, Rose," Jack protested as they dragged him away. "You know I didn't do this, Rose!" He repeated. They pushed him out the door and began to drag him down the hall. "Rose, you know me! Rose!" His calls faded away behind the closed door. I could have died. How stupid was I? To allow myself to love a man who would bring me nothing but pain. How vulnerable was I? How ignorant? I silently cursed myself and I cursed Cal. I cursed him for standing near me, as a reminder of my idiocy. I don't know why, but I didn't feel myself cursing Jack.

"Will you excuse us for a moment," Cal said tenderly to Mother. _Please don't leave, Mother. _I thought, _Please. _But she nodded and left the room, leaving me alone with Cal. I wished that Jack would march into the room, get down on his knees and apologize. Then punch Cal and carry me away. But I looked to the door, waiting for Jack to come and save me, but there was nothing there but a hunk of wood. Why the hell was I so forgiving? "Well it is a little _slut_ isn't," Cal said. He raised his hand and I felt a horrible blow to my cheek. My head moved with the slap and the room spun. "You look at me when I'm talking to you!" He grabbed my shoulders and shook me. I held a hand to my face, wondering if his strike would leave a bruise. A mark of my loathing.

But before Cal could do more to me, the door suddenly opened. _Jack?_ I thought. No, it wasn't Jack. A steward, however, entered. "You're to report to the deck with your life belt," said the man.

"Not now, we're busy," Cal said sternly. inconvenience

"I'm sorry to inconvenience you, but it's captain's orders." Boy, am I glad he was so persistent. "Now, it's quite cold out tonight." He let himself into the closet. "I suggest to coats and hats." He came out holding two life vests. He must have noticed the look on my face, and didn't think it had anything to do with the man who was still holding me roughly. "Nothing to worry about, miss. I'm sure it's just a precaution." Mother came out and the steward told her the orders.

"Well, I suppose we should take this as if it were actually an emergency. Rose, get your coat on," she said. Then I smiled at her. As much as I detest that woman, I don't think I had ever been as happy to see her as I did right then. "Well hurry up, Rose! Let's not wait for the grass to grow."

"No grass in the ocean, Mother."

"Don't be saucy, missy. Now put on your coat this instant!" And I was back to loathing her. She didn't even notice the red mark on my cheek! So I went into my wardrobe and pulled out my thickest wool coat. I remembered Jack telling me it was really cold out a few hours ago. Figured it was probably colder by now, seeing as it was past midnight. However, when Mother saw me in it, she said, "Absolutely not! What about your pink coat? We got it to match that silly little dress of yours. Go put it on!"

"But Mother," I whined, "It isn't nearly as warm!" But there was no convincing her. I felt tired and lazy as I removed the wool one and put on the much thinner pink garment.

"That's more like it," she said when I was changed, and we walked out of the suite and headed for the deck. Though she revolts me, I stuck close to Mother, afraid of Cal hurting me again. Oh, God. I can still feel the sting of his blow.

I assumed we were going to wait on the deck itself, but everyone was inside, hovering around the grand staircase. Apparently it was too noisy and cold, and no one thought the situation was serious. Cal was making infantile complaints about having to be up and about at this hour. Mother got settled with some friends and told Trudy to have a cup of tea waiting for her for when she returned to her room. Then I noticed Mr. Andrews. He looked so nervous. Like someone had just died. He was checking his pocket watch and drinking in the sight of the people around him; some dressed up, some in pajamas, some in lifebelts, some wearing no shoes. And then as I looked into his eyes, I knew that something terrible was about to happen. Maybe it already had.

"Mr. Andrews!" I ran up to him and said, "I saw the iceberg and I see it in your eyes. Please. Tell me the truth."

He seemed to be looking past me. Or maybe into me. "The ship will sink," he said finally, his voice full of regret and sorrow.

I could feel my eyes widening. "Are you certain?"

He nodded solemnly. "In an hour or two, all of this will be at the bottom of Atlantic." He looked like he was about to cry, and don't blame him. Needless to say, I was in both a state of shock and denial. Slowly, I moved my hand to cover my mouth, in fear that I might scream. "Please, Rose, get to a boat. Don't wait. You…remember what I told you about the boats?" he said gravely.

I nodded. "Yes."

"_It seems there are not enough for everyone aboard."_

"_About half actually"_

"I understand," I said. Cal was standing behind me. He was speechless. And for perhaps the first time in my life, so was I. Then I suddenly remembered Jack. The ship was sinking. And he was locked up somewhere. Locked up in a sinking ship. I moved away from Cal, not wanting to be near him. For some unexplainable reason, I still felt like I could trust Jack with my life. And I knew he still trusted me with his. Even though he was a liar and a thief, I heard myself praying that he would be alright.

My hand is so tired. I've written so much. I don't think I can anymore; not for today, anyway. I'm so exhausted, I could sleep for hours and hours. In fact, I think I will. But I will write more tomorrow. I promise.

Your friend,

Rose

P.S. I have never felt this much pain in all my life. Keep that in mind.

>That was it. A bit long. Not my longest, though. So, like I said, PLEASE review. It means a lot! Thanks, and I hope you liked it! (;


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